


Dead Man's Hand

by Devilc



Category: Friday Night Lights, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comics, Crossover, Marvel Universe, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Riggins becomes Gambit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Fine Summer Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1407graymalkin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=1407graymalkin), [bone](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bone).



> This is a sequel to [Necessary Changes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/35625) which you must read for this to make sense.
> 
> When it was announced that Taylor Kitsch would be playing Gambit in upcoming X-Men movie, 1407graymalkin and thisisbone challenged me to write a story in which Tim Riggins became Gambit. I accepted, but it took me a hell of a lot longer to write than I thought it would.

Their fishing poles sat before them, floaters bobbing gently on the waves. A cloud or two dotted the blue of the sky. The late July temperature was warm, but not unbearably hot.

A perfect day.

"Still can't believe you're here, Six, " Tim said, grinning as he settled a little deeper into his seat and popped the top on a beer.

Jason snorted. "Why not?"

"Why come back here at all, when you've got all that cool stuff to do in New York?"

"Tim, I happen to actually _like_ my parents."

Mentally Tim rolled his eyes.

Jason shrugged. "They wanted me to visit, so I'm visiting them."

Tim took a drink and said, "It sucked that you couldn't make it down for your birthday. It sucks that you're leaving tomorrow, too."

Jason's mouth tightened slightly. He drew in a breath, held it, blew it out. "I might not be coming back," he said softly.

"What?! Really?" Because Tim only pretended to be casual about Jason's visiting. He wanted to spend time with Jason, as often as possible. Phone calls just weren't the same.

(He also didn't want Jason to leave him behind, like other people had.)

"I'm about to drop another bomb on them." Jason swallowed hard. "I'm seeing Scott."

It took Tim a moment to place the name and then a wave of sick disappointment at the news crashed over him. He had never said, never done anything ... and now Jason had moved on before Tim even had a chance to let him know. All because he was too chickenshit.

Too late.

Again.

Scott -- the tall, good looking guy Tim had played a mean game of pool against that time he had visited Jason at school. (A part of Tim still couldn't believe he had ended up hustling a guy like Logan.)

Scott -- the kind of guy Tim was not and never would be.

He said nothing, just gulped the can dry and hurled it as hard as he could, rocking the boat so hard he nearly swamped it.

"What the hell's gotten into you?!" Jason yelled, clearly miffed.

"Nothing," Tim muttered back, clipped and tight. "Nothing."

After a very long pause, Jason asked, "You still seeing Landry?"

"Nope. He's dating Tyra now."

"Awkward. Ouch."

"You said it." Tim didn't try to keep the bitterness from his voice.

~oo(0)oo~

Tim saw Jason off at his parents' house the next morning. Judging by the strained looks on everybody's faces, it was going to be a _long_ ride to the airport.

~oo(0)oo~

Two weeks later, after a practice that left Tim bruised and achy (if he never had to attempt to bowl over Santiago again, it would be too soon ... and this was only the 3rd pre-season practice) he reached into the fridge for an ice-cold beer when a soft knocking came at the door.

_What now?_ he thought.

A small-for-his-age boy with dark hair stood there and looked up at him with great frightened eyes.

_Billy from Jason's school!_ "Billy ... what are you doing here?"

"Don't know," Billy said, on the edge of tears, and then he was hugging Tim's legs as if his life depended on it.

Tim ruffled his hair before gently getting Billy's arms unwrapped from around his legs. "C'mon kiddo, let's get you a soda."

Billy smiled up at him and said, "I don't get to have soda any more."

"You don't?" _WTF?!_

Billy shook his head. "Daddy Reed says it's not good for growing boys."

_Who's Daddy Reed?_ Tim also thought that whoever he was, this Daddy Reed sounded like some sort of jerk for not letting a kid have a soda. Not that kids should have a lot of soda, because you also needed things like orange juice and milk for nutrition. But, hell, he'd had lots of soda growing up, and it hadn't exactly stunted his growth.

"So," he said as soon as he had Billy sitting down at the kitchen island happily drinking Coke from a Panthers State Championship cup, "how'd you get here?"

"Don't know," Billy replied in a tiny voice, brown coke-mustache staining his upper lip.

Tim wiped it away with a paper towel. "Do you remember what you were doing just before you came here?"

"I was having a time out because I pushed Franklin, and I was so mad because he took my robot and made it into something else. And I was watching Tommy spin around and it was raining and I wanted to go out and spin around like we did with you at that big house with the big yard, and I wished you were here so you could push me and Tommy on the swings again, and I really wanted to find you so that you could take me and Tommy to the park and play with us again. And then it flashed and I was here." Billy chugged down the rest of his Coke and burped loudly.

Something curdled in the pit of Tim's stomach.

"Can we go on the swings? 'Cause it's sunny out here. Also, I want ice-cream with jimmies. Jason and Lorna were going to take me once for ice-cream with jimmies, but Magneto came and ruined it. He's in jail now. Daddy Reed says he can't hurt me or Tommy."

_Fuuuuckkk._ Tim remembered seeing that footage on TV. Jason holding on to Billy and his brother as Lorna tried to fend off Magneto's relentless advance.

Smiling back down at Billy, Tim said, "Sure thing, little guy. Give me a chance to get changed and we'll go visit my buddy Seven for some ice-cream and then I'll take you to the park." Tim poured him some more Coke and told him to sit tight.

When he got into his room, Tim whipped out his cellphone and called Jason. Voicemail. Crap. "Uh ... Six? Little Billy of the Billy and Tommy dynamic duo just showed up on my doorstep not 10 minutes ago. Looks like his power's come on line, that or somebody's doing something really freaky involving him. Call me back. I'll call you right away if he does any more teleporting."

Hopefully they weren't freaked out too bad over at Jason's school and hopefully somebody would come soon for Billy.

(But not too soon.)

~oo(0)oo~

"_Ooooohhh!_" Billy crooned at the sight of the banana split Tim plonked on the table between them. Matt had covered it with jimmies, just like Billy asked.

"There's also this," Tim said, setting a small cup covered in Disney characters down in front of Billy. "It's root beer." Handing Billy a spoon he said, "Dig in."

Billy set to with enthusiasm.

"Let me guess," Tim said sourly, "there's no ice-cream at Daddy Reed's."

Billy shook his head. "We get frozen soy dessert."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Bet it's not as good as this."

Billy shook his head no and tried a cautious sip of the root beer. "It's _good!_" he squealed happily.

"Of course it is, kiddo. Would I steer you wrong?"

The expression in Billy's big brown eyes was so serious as he shook his head no that Tim had to laugh.

~oo(0)oo~

On their way to the park, as Billy jabbered a mile a minute in response to his questions, Tim discovered that Billy no longer lived at the Xavier school. He didn't know his new phone number or the address, just that the building had a big four on it. But, for a place without ice-cream or soda, it actually didn't seem all that bad.

His foster parents, Daddy Reed and Sue Mom, had a son of their own, Franklin, who was a year older than Billy and Tommy, and liked to tinker with electronic appliances and toys. Billy and Tommy had bunk-beds in their room and lots of toys and books, and Sue Mom read to them almost every night. Sometimes Daddy Reed did, but Sue Mom was better at it. Billy liked Green Eggs and Ham and Tommy liked The Cat in the Hat. Franklin liked Discover Magazine.

They took trips to the park or the beach, too, but they weren't allowed to leave the house without an adult coming with and --

\-- Billy's face crumpled. "Tim, I'm going to be in big trouble!" And he started to cry.

"No, Billy, " Tim said in a gentle voice as he dabbed at the tears spilling down Billy's cheeks. "It was an accident. And if they get mad? I'll stick up for you." _They'd better not be fucking mad at him over this._

"Okay," Billy seemed reassured and sucked the last of his root beer through the straw. "Can we go on the swings now?"

"Yup."

~oo(0)oo~

After three hours of swinging, and see-saws, and slides, and spinning until he was dizzy and then trying to run, it was time for Billy to go home.

Tim smiled down at the sleeping Billy in the seat next to him. A lot of his happiest childhood memories -- and there weren't a whole lot of those -- had to do with going to the park, too.

~oo(0)oo~

Tim's cell phone rang about 10 minutes after he finished studying this season's playbook and climbed into bed next to a completely conked-out Billy (who insisted on wearing a Dillon Panthers T-Shirt that hung to his knees).

"Tim!" Jason's voice held a frantic note. "Is Billy still with you?!"

"Yeah he's sound asleep right next to me." _And it's about frikkin' time you called_.

"_Do not_ go anywhere. Do not let anybody into your house until it's me calling to say we're here. If anybody comes prowling around the house call me on the cell and 911 on the land line --"

"Take a breath and calm down, Six."

"Tim, you have no idea how much shit you almost found yourself in. Luckily Professor X was able to put in a good word for you, because I shit you not when I say that Billy and Tommy's new family was already taking some major actions to find him."

_Daaaamn_. "Okay," he said mildly, because sometimes when Jason got on a roll you had to just let him keep going.

"Seriously, Tim, this could've blown up in your face -- blown up in the whole town's face. I'll -- I'll tell you more when I see you. We'll be there in as soon as we can."

Sigh.

If it was as bad as Jason made it sound, it wasn't going to be a decent hour like 9am that they came knocking on his door. Probably something oh-dark-thirty.

Shit.

~oo(0)oo~

Tim catnapped through the night until his cellphone rang just before 2am. Billy didn't stir at all.

Two minutes later, with Jason still on the phone to him, the knock came at the door.

"Holy shit!" Tim blurted when he opened it, the phone falling from nerveless fingers.

Jason stifled a laugh behind his glove.

"You ... You're -- it's --" Tim stammered.

The tired looking man before him (who had surprisingly kind eyes, not at all the fire and brimstone Jason led him to expect) held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Reed Richards."

Wordlessly Tim pumped it a few times before he remembered he was supposed to say something. "Tim. Tim Riggins. Billy's sleeping. I'll -- why don't you come in?"

Reed motioned for the people waiting at the bottom of the drive to come up. They were joined by Sue Storm (every bit as hot in real life as she looked on TV and magazines), as well as Jean and Scott from Jason's school.

"Um, sorry for the mess," Tim muttered, looking at the state of clutter in the living room. "I didn't think to clean up. I ... I guess I'll go and get Billy now."

"He can sleep a little while longer. He's probably had a long day," Sue said not unkindly, though her smile was a touch strained.

"Tell you what," Scott said, "why don't I make us all some coffee?"

"Sounds great," Reed and Sue said in unison.

"And then we can talk about what happened today," Jean said.

"Okay," Tim said numbly. "It's not really exciting --" At Reed's raised eyebrow, he amended, "Well, after Billy just showed up, we just did things a little boy thinks are fun. Pretty ordinary." His legs wobbled a little as he sat down on the couch.

He then answered the same questions (just asked different ways) over and over about _everything_ that had happened since Billy knocked on his door that afternoon.

Reed Richards frowned at the mention of the root beer and the banana split -- and Tim almost laughed because, really, you'd think he'd fed the kid Corona and hash brownies or something.

::In his eyes, yes. Don't mention the Coca-Cola or he'll flip. He's a firm believer that caffeine is not for children. :: Amusement colored Jean's voice in his mind.

Finally, almost as an afterthought, Sue asked where his parents were.

Tim bit back on the flare of anger and shame.

(Jean sucked in a quick breath and Jason's mouth went hard and tight.)

"Your guess is as good as mine," he said bitterly. "My older brother, Billy, and his girlfriend Jackie live next door. They've taken Bo, that's Jackie's son, and gone for a week's vacation down in Galveston."

"How old are you?" Reed asked.

_What did that have to do with anything? It's not like he was six or something._ "I'm 17. Look, Jason's parents are checking in on me, so's Coach Taylor. Plus, Billy calls me every evening. It's not like I'm abandoned." He looked at Jason for some help.

But, oddly enough, Reed and Sue seemed content with his answer. So did Jean.

"Billy and Tommy have mentioned you when they talk about living at the Xavier Institute, " Sue said. "You made quite an impression on them."

"I did?!" Tim blurted.

"Yes," Scott interjected. "Jason had to explain to Reed several of the games that you had played with the twins when they first went to live there."

_Oh._ Tim blushed. It wasn't -- it was just what you were supposed to do with kids. It was just all stuff that he had loved to do with his older brother when he was that age, stuff that he did with Bo. Nothing special. "I ... I guess this is where I go and get Billy," he finally said.

~oo(0)oo~

Billy refused to get back into his clothes when Tim told him that Daddy Reed and Sue Mom were here for him. Tim figured he could live with the loss of a T-shirt. Billy beamed for a moment at the news that they were here, then asked, voice quavering, "But I'm not in trouble?"

"No silly," Tim said, scooping him up. "They love you." He choked up a bit on that. Reed and Sue had come half way across the country for a kid that wasn't even theirs. His parents? _Fuck it_. He forced his voice to be light and happy, "They're just really happy you're okay, squirt."

As they entered the hallway, Billy clinging to his back as Tim held his clothes in a neatly rolled bundle, Billy whispered in his ear, "Are you sure you're not a mutant?"

Tim flashed a bittersweet grin over his shoulder. "Yeah, Billy, I'm sure I'm not a mutant. They told me so."

"I wish you were," Billy said wistfully, almost too soft to hear. Then, a little louder, "'Cause then I'd get to see you when I'm old enough to go to school at Xavier's."

Tim grinned even bigger at him. "You can see me without me being at Xavier's, you know. Maybe I can come visit you and Tommy the next time I visit Jason."

"Promise?" Billy asked, eyes alight.

"I promise to try," Tim replied. Then, as they made it fully into the living room -- "Look, Billy, everybody's here for you."

"Sue Mom!" Billy shouted, jumping off of Tim's back and running toward her.

"Billy boy!" She cried, scooping him up.

~oo(0)oo~

Billy, of course, was very happy to see Daddy Reed and over the moon to see Jason and babbled happily to him about all the new things that he had learned to do.

"Thank you," Reed said quietly as he left, shaking Tim's hand one last time.

Tim shrugged. "It was nothing. He's a good kid."

~oo(0)oo~

The house seemed deathly silent after the day's earlier hustle and bustle.

Thirty minutes after they left, Tim kicked himself for not getting Sue and Reed to sign something for Bo.

~oo(0)oo~

"Hey, Tim, my dad wants to know if you've got that equipment check done yet," Julie asked him. "He needs one of those numbers right away." She held out her hand for the metal clipboard box.

"Sure thing," Tim smiled and handed it over to her.

There was a sight crackling noise as she made contact.

"Ouch!" She winced, shaking her hand against the pain.

He cringed. "Sorry. I've been giving a lot of people static shocks lately. Don't know what it is."

~oo(0)oo~

When the remote control he was using to watch some Larribee game tapes snap-crackle-popped about two seconds after he set it down, buttons flying off, the casing cracked and shattered as if he had banged it with a hammer, Tim came to the realization that what had been going on (and getting worse) in the past three weeks was not static electricity.

A sick feeling churned in his guts.

He prayed that he could make it through the game against the Lions tomorrow night without anything happening. After that, he'd call Jason first thing in the morning.

~oo(0)oo~

Tim had a deathgrip on the football as he ran down the field, stiff arming and stutter-stepping the few Lions between him and the endzone. By the 10 yard line, there was nobody to catch him.

Smash would have made a show of sauntering lazily into the endzone.

He wasn't Smash. He kept steady on.

Spiking the football? Now _that_ he could do.

Except that the football in his hands glowed a weird purple-pinkish white. Tim dropped it and starting running for his life.

It exploded five seconds later, the force of the blast causing Tim to miss a step and smack into the chain link fence at the end of the field.

He looked over his shoulder and saw a huge crater about six feet wide and three feet deep and the goal post seemed to topple in slow motion. Several players lay sprawled on the field. He did not stay any longer to watch. Lungs burning, sobbing for each breath, Tim ran as he had never run before, cleats slip-sliding on concrete and asphalt. The sound of screams chased him across the parking lot, past his truck, to Billy's Camaro, parked two cars over. Heart hammering in his ears, he reached under the rear bumper of the car and found the spare key in the plastic baggie that Billy kept twist tied to the tow loop.

For once, that ancient piece of shit started on the first go.

And, Billy had gassed it all the way up.

Tim slammed the gear selector into drive, put his foot on the gas and roared out of the parking lot. He had no plan beyond getting down the road, finding a pay phone, and making a collect call to Jason.

~oo(0)oo~

Two hours later as he flew around a curve in the road, the front tire blew. The Camaro crashed through a fence, careened down an embankment, and smashed into a concrete drainage pipe abutment.

The pain felt like a knife twisting through his ribs as Tim hauled himself out of the smoking wreckage, his football pads not helping any, and crawled about half way up the side of the embankment, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

The world narrowed to a tunnel, grayed out, went staticy, and mercifully faded to black.

~oo(0)oo~

Lights.

Noise. The sound of a helicopter. Shouting.

(Pain like a hot wire all through him when they moved him.)

Oxygen mask on his face. Trying to say something to them.

A voice said something about a messy extraction and you-know-who isn't going to be pleased. Another voice said to shut up and get the med-tech, he's not dead yet.

_There was someone else in his brain._

"He's coming 'round! He's awake!"

_There was someone else in his brain._ Tim felt it, tried to push The Other out, felt them dig in, twist, and _clamp down_.

A needle stung his arm and warm blackness washed over. The last thing he heard was one of the voices asking if a sedative was the right choice given the subject's injuries.


	2. A Brief Interlude

_Gloves._

He can feel gloves on his hands.

Darkness.

But he's not alone in the darkness. The Other is here with him.

It tells him things. That this is all for his own good. That this is necessary. That there is a plan for him. Tells him that the gloves will come off as soon as his power is better understood and he's learned how to control it.

Tim cringes as it rummages through his mind. He wants to run and hide, but there's no place to go. Tries to scream. Tries to wake up.

But no.

The Other tells him that he's suitable raw material, but that Tim Riggins has to go. He's been found wanting.

The Other is going to invent a new person to live in his body, a much more useful person.

But, if it's any comfort, this new person is going to be the kind of guy Tim's always wanted to be. In fact, Tim's own fantasies formed part of the basis for this new creation. It's like a part of him will live on.

Kicking and screaming he's bricked away inside his own body.


	3. A New Man

The days at the facility pretty much bled into one another. That's what Remy Le Beau hated most about it.

Yeah, he knew he signed an agreement, knew that they were going to brick away parts of his memories to help him adapt to his new reality, his life as part of the Weapon X project.

He just didn't think that it would be so fucking boring sometimes. Or that the perfectly portioned, scientifically designed meals would taste so bland.

If he never saw a white lab coat and a clipboard again, it would be too soon.

~oo(0)oo~

The way Remy figured it, now that he'd finally gotten his power all figured out (unlike several in the program) it wasn't all bad, really. Granted, his eyes glowed reddish whenever he used his powers, but most people he encountered would probably write that off as their eyes playing tricks on them.

A few of the Canadians in the program riffed on him about his French. He just smiled and muttered in his thickest Cajun accent, "_Laissez le bon temps rouler_," and then proceeded to give them all a lesson about not fucking with him. He might not be the biggest, the fastest, or the strongest, but he had _moves_ in spades, and the Sensei here said that he'd never seen anybody take to a bo staff like Remy did.

~oo(0)oo~

Remy looked at the paperwork.

"I knew this day would eventually come," The Doctor said, smiling tightly.

"Yeah. I just ... I know I've got holes in my mind. I just wanted to see the paperwork, remind myself why I'm doing this."

He fingered the consent form he signed upon joining the Weapon X program. It warned him that his memories may be altered or suppressed as needed to support program objectives.

A part of Remy thought about charging the paper up, letting it fly.

Blowing it up wouldn't solve the problem, but it would make him feel better.

~oo(0)oo~

The program managers decided to fill the holes in his mind with other useful stuff. In addition to all of his combat training and practice with his powers, they taught him about lockpicking, computer hacking, and mathematical games of chance, specifically gambling.

He'd always liked playing cards, but this? This was professional gambling, including how to cheat. He wondered why, but knew better than to ask.

~oo(0)oo~

Sometimes he felt The Other enter his mind and shuffle through all that stuff he learned like it was index cards in file.

It smiled and told him how lucky he was.

Remy tried to shut it out, tried to block it away. And when that failed, he swore at it -- in two languages.

It laughed and praised him for his creativity.

~oo(0)oo~

Now that the gloves were off, Remy had fun with his ability to convert matter into energy and then have that energy be unleashed. He found he could delay the boom by as much as 10 minutes, if needed.

He also discovered, over a contentious game of poker one night, that cards made the perfect weapons given his mutation. They were light, they charged quickly, nobody thought them as a dangerous weapon, and something about charging them made them behave more like stiff sheets of plastic, not thin slips of paper, when thrown. Remy didn't understand why, but he wasn't a scientist. (And even they couldn't quite figure it out.)

They wanted to call him "The King of Cards" or "Blackjack", or even "Ace of Spades," but Remy would have none of that.

He looked Colonel Stryker in the eye and said, "Call me Blackjack an' I use it on you. _'Je vas te passe une callotte'_* as we say back on de bayou."

~oo(0)oo~

As he sat down to yet another perfectly portioned, ultra-nutritious meal, Remy thought two things:

One, he was dying to get into the field and see some black-ops action.

Two, he really missed a good crawfish boil.

~oo(0)oo~

Remy dreamt of playing football sometimes.

Incredibly vivid, ultra realistic dreams of running down a field and plowing over everyone who got in his way while a stadium full of people roared in approval.

Other times he dreamt of a girl with big brown eyes and long brown hair, and a handsome All-American guy with light brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a Captain America smile. He woke from those dreams just aching with feelings of love lost.

He had no memories of football or of those people at all.

He did have memories of a shotgun shack a little ways back from Bayou Lafourche, not far from Larose.

He remembered Maman's gumbo and going to crawfish boils with cousins.

He remembered too many mouths to feed after Katrina, so he decided to help Maman by hitching his way to New Orleans to see if he could find something better there.

He found Trevor Lorette and a tribe of street kids and they squatted in a double barreled shotgun shack down in the Lower Ninth and they boosted and hustled the locals in addition to pickpocketing and spanging the tourists in the French Quarter.

(They tithed to the NOPD. Except a that few of them thought that Remy was pretty and they liked the novelty of an actual we-spoke-French-at-home Cajun, and they asked for trade instead of tithe. And Trevor was okay with that -- after all it wasn't _his_ ass and it meant more money in his pocket at the end of the day.)

He remembered his powers coming online one day as he tried to pickpocket a Canadian tourist who made him an offer he couldn't refuse. (An offer a hell of a lot better than any Trevor Lorette ever made him.)

Remy talked about what he remembered during his psych evaluations.

He didn't mention the dreams.

~oo(0)oo~

They trained him to fight like the devil himself, to pick locks, to crack computers, to use his gifts to bring the house down with a bang (but also in ways subtle and barely detectable).

And they expected him to stay locked in his room at night?

_As if._

Not that he left via the front door.

Remy Le Beau had had enough of school. Today was graduation day.

He didn't run back to the US, back to the Louisiana bayous, back to the familiar faces.

Whole bunch of francophones over in Quebec.

He paid his way there by hustling pool.

(And if he knew how to play pool and hustle a game without ever remembering playing at billiards in his life? Gaps in his memory, _non_?)

~oo(0)oo~

Remy didn't enter any of the casinos in the Montreal area. Cameras everywhere. Besides, the exoticness of being an _American_ francophone opened the doors to the games hidden in the backrooms of the working class bars.

The owner of his favorite bar even gave him a nickname -- "Gambit."

Remy liked it. Even took to talking about himself in the third person. Worked great to get inside of people's heads and mess with them.

~oo(0)oo~

Something about The Stranger tugged at the back of Remy's mind. Tall, dark haired (with long 1970s style sideburns), powerfully built (but not muscle bound), piercing dark eyes, and a classic don't-fuck-with-me attitude.

The Stranger bellied up to the bar and ordered a shot of Crown Royal, neat, and downed it. He turned and his eyes roved over the room, lingering on Remy -- as if he knew Remy and likewise couldn't place him -- before moving on.

A smart man, taking the lay of the land like that.

Remy figured he must have known him from his life before, but the man's French, while fluent, was not Cajun, so ...?

The Stranger's eyes roved over him again, sizing him up, and Remy smirked openly because, whoever this guy was, things had changed -- Remy had changed -- since they last met.

When The Stranger sat down and antied up, Remy decided to play it cool and keep his mouth shut in the hopes that The Stranger would open his.

Not that Remy was spoiling for a fight, and he especially wasn't looking to out himself as a mutant, but he had a telescoping bo staff tucked in the satchel hanging off the back of his chair, and between that and the moves he had, he probably wouldn't have to.

~oo(0)oo~

Remy called it a night about 20 minutes before last call, counted his winnings and headed for the toilet.

A moment later The Stranger ducked in and leaned against the door, arms crossed. He cocked his head, sniffed loudly, and said, "I know who you are, Gambit."

Remy pasted a smile on his face and fingered a few cards in his pocket. "Do you now?" He thickened his accent. "And how do you be knowing Gambit's _nom de guerre_ when he hasn't told you it himself?"

"People are looking for you." The Stranger advanced a few feet from the door.

"Let them look." Remy sniffed.

"_I've_ been looking for you."

Remy chuckled low in his throat. "Tink you're Mr. Right, den? I ain't for Mr. Right. Or even a Mr. Right Now."

The Stranger rolled his eyes. "I know about the Weapon X program."

Remy dropped his voice and said, "Den you'd best forget you met Gambit, _Anglais_."

"English?" The Stranger scoffed. "As if you're pure wool Quebecois."

"Turn an' walk away, _mon ami_." Slipping his other hand inside his satchel, Remy withdrew the staff and snapped the button to extend it.

The Stranger sighed and said, "If that's the way you want to play it, Tim, you're going to learn that cramped quarters like this are no place for swinging a staff." _Snikt!_ A set of long metal claws popped out of his knuckles.

_Tim?! Who was Tim?_

"If I've learned anything about life, it's this -- always play the hand you're dealt. My name is Gambit, and I play for keeps." Remy said coolly and hurtled the cards.

**Ka-BOOOM!** They blew a hole in the floor and knocked The Stranger back and to the side several feet, enough so that Remy should be able to rush past him and get through the door.

Only, The Stranger didn't stay down like he was supposed to, like a normal man would've.

_Plan for the worst and all your surprises will be pleasant,_ they'd hammered into his head at Weapon X. As soon as The Stranger gained his feet, Remy whirled, whipping his bo-staff up and around, hearing as well as feeling it connect solidly.

Only, once again, The Stranger didn't drop like he should have, and that blow would have broken an ordinary man's ribs. It just sent The Stranger backpedaling.

Remy felt the first prickles of fear at the edge of his mind.

Shouts broke the split second stillness. In a few moments, people would burst through the door, and few ticks after that, sirens would start. Remy had no plans to stay here a second longer than he had to.

A nasty smile creasing his face, The Stranger said, "Catch you later, bub," and backed out of the battered bathroom door.

_Whatever_. Remy charged several cards, tucked them between the toilet and the wall, and a moment later, ducked out the hole he'd just blown in the side of the building.

From the Weapon X program he remembered that the natural tendency of people fleeing a scene was to turn right. He collapsed the staff, tucking it in his coat as he turned left.

Deep breath. Calm. Cool. Collected. Explosion? What explosion?

He turned left again at the end of the alleyway. Next would come a right. He would pick a zig zag pattern down to the rail yard and hop on something headed out of town.

~oo(0)oo~

The Stranger had found his trail, somehow. Even a switch-up and a double back didn't shake him long.

But that didn't matter. He'd reached the rail yard. Remy stooped and picked up a golf ball sized rock from the edge of the road.

The Stranger had seen what he could do by actualizing the atomic potential in a playing card. _Wait until he gets a load of this,_ Remy thought and chortled wickedly.

He made no efforts to silence his boots crunching on the gravel. He wanted The Stranger to find him.

~oo(0)oo~

The impact caught Remy by surprise. He had expected a face to face show down, not a flying body tackle from the side. He slammed into the side of a boxcar, the shock of it knocking the glowing rock from his hand.

He barely had time to turn and take a step or two before the explosion blew a huge pit in the ground and sent him, The Stranger, and plenty of debris flying.

When Remy came to, ears ringing, he staggered to his feet, dimly aware of a bright white spotlight and the roar of a jet engine. As his vision strobed and went to static, he saw The Stranger, clothes shredded, blood streaming from several nicks and cuts, claws extended, heading towards him.

"_Mon Dieu_, what does it take to put you down?" he wondered aloud as the ground rushed up to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Lit: I will pass you a slap. ([Source](http://web.archive.org/web/20071115231144/http://www.geocities.com/tokyo/flats/4396/language.html))


	4. Familiar Faces

"Tim? Tim, how are you feeling?" Jason's voice, thick with worry.

Tim stirred, tried to get his eyes to open, focus, swallowed, and said thickly, his tongue not wanting to cooperate, "I feel like I'm being held together with bailing wire and duct tape." His eyes fluttered open. Yes. It was really Jason. But the effort of keeping his eyes open and focused was too much so he just let them fall shut again.

"He needs to rest awhile longer Jason," said a man's voice, gentle and vaguely familiar. Somehow, Tim could feel the same person in his mind, but the presence was soothing, calming ... kind.

It was like parts of his brain itched and this guy was putting the calamine lotion on them.

He tried to move, couldn't, was so tired, wanted to sleep ....

"Don't leave me Six," he muttered.

Jason's hand gripping his was the last thing he felt before he sank back into the black.

~oo(0)oo~

His nose itched. Tim tried to reach and scratch it, but his arm wouldn't move. Panic surged through him, snapping him fully awake. He was in a hospital bed, tied to the railings by his forearms, hands pointing up.

Looking around, he saw Jason in the chair next to him. "Yo, Jay, why am I tied to the bed?"

"Because we didn't want you accidentally using your powers," Jason said, reaching for one of the bindings, fumbling as he attempted to untie it and getting nowhere fast, which just made Tim's nose itch all the more. "Also, we weren't exactly sure who was going to wake up."

"Huh?" Tim twitched his nose violently in an effort to make the itch go away. Nothing doing.

Jason sighed. "Let me get Hank. I'll be back in a moment."

Hank turned out to be a large blue furry guy in a while lab coat. Tim tried not to gawp, but could tell he failed. "So, I take it I'm at Xavier's?"

Hank smiled at him. "Indeed you are." He reached over and squeezed Tim's hand. "I'm Dr. Henry McCoy, call me Hank." As he started working on the bindings, he said, "I'm sure you've got a lot of questions. You've been through quite the ordeal in the past three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Tim scratched that damned itch the moment his hand got free. "Because the last thing I remember is wiping out in Billy's car, and ...." _The Other_.

Both Hank and Jason looked at him strangely.

"What?" he asked.

"Tim, _you're speaking French_," Jason said, a note of panic in his voice.

Tim tried to say something back, even felt his mouth open and shut several times, but nothing would come.

Hank smiled sadly at him. "I'll let Professor X know that you're awake. They'll probably want to see you soon."

~oo(0)oo~

"Ah, Timothy," Professor X greeted him warmly when he entered the office. "How are you feeling?"

"Achy. And I can speak French. And it's just Tim."

Jean smiled at him while Logan, who had been looking out the window turned and said, "They stuffed a whole lot of crap in your head, boy."

"Aaaand, we're getting ahead of ourselves," Professor X cut in smoothly. "First things first. Tim, are you aware that you are a mutant?"

"Yeah ...." Tim replied after a moment. "I know I am somehow, even though I'm not supposed to be. I mean, I've been tested and told that I wasn't." He shrugged. "Maybe it was a false negative?"

Jean shook her head. "There's not false positive or negatives on that test. You weren't a mutant when we first tested you. You are now."

"How?"

She sighed and folded her hands. "We don't know. You didn't have the extra gene before. You do now."

Tim shook his head. "Even I know that genes don't work like that. That you don't just grow an extra one."

Logan wore a bleak expression on his face. "They can stuff you full of all sorts of things at Weapon X." He extended a claw and studied it for a moment before retracting it.

"Except that I went active _before_ I ended up here. And what's Weapon X?"

Professor X cleared his throat and said quietly, "The how and why of your change are something we can figure out later. Do you know what your gift is, Tim?"

"Yeah, I charge things up." He shivered at the memory of the football. "They glow a kind of purple-pink around the edges."

_He could see a charged playing card in his hand._

Wait.

When did he charge up a playing card? Because the last thing he remembered was the football game -- the night his power came fully online.

He frowned in thought and sat in a chair opposite Jean. So ... how come he just knew he could charge up any inanimate object in this room? And that the time needed to charge up an object varied depending on the size of the object and what it was made out of, and that he could also set a delay on the explosions?

Because, seriously? The last thing Tim remembered was hurting all over as he crawled out of what was left of Billy's Camaro, and the bright lights and sounds of his rescuers and ... _The Other_.

He whipped his head up. Logan's eyes bored into his.

Been there.

Done that.

Have the T-shirt.

"Sonofabitch!" Tim hissed under his breath.

Jean poured him a glass of ice water and he gulped it down.

Logan crossed the room and sat down next to Jean. Taking his hand into hers, he looked at Tim, then back at Jean, who gave him a slight nod, and said, "So, how about we try this another way? How about we tell you what _we_ know."

Tim nodded. "Sure."

Logan looked at Professor X, who drew a deep breath and began, "You disappeared over a year ago after the ... incident ... at the football game."

Ice formed in the pit of Tim's stomach.

"Our investigation of the crash site revealed little more than what the official report said -- you wrecked the car, crawled up the embankment and several somebodies found you and took you.

"Official logs show that no 9-1-1 dispatch center ever received a call about the accident. No hospitals in a 100 mile radius ever took in a John Doe matching your description.

"Even Jason couldn't tell us anything."

"It was like you fell off the face of the Earth," Jean said. "All we could figure out was that whoever took you was very, _very_ good."

"We checked all of the usual suspects, but nothing panned out," Logan's voice was low, soft, carefully controlled. "And then we started hearing rumors of a rebooted Weapon X project."

"We thought we had shut them down, but they're good. _Very good_," Professor X explained.

"So, you're pretty sure this Weapon X program got ahold of me."

Logan nodded. "That's what all the signs point to."

Tim took a deep breath. "So how did you find me?"

"By complete dumb luck." Logan chuckled bitterly. "I walked into the back room of an old haunt of mine in Montreal, and there you were."

Tim blinked at that.

"Only, the barkeep told me your name was Remy, that everybody called you Gambit, and that you were a feisty one out of the Louisiana bayous. And instead of trying to hustle me at pool, you were playing Five Card Stud.

"But this," Logan tapped his nose, "doesn't lie. I could smell that you were Jason's friend who went missing, so I joined the game, confronted you in the bathroom, and --" he cracked a wolfish grin, "you fought like the devil himself. That's quite some power you have. Moves, too."

Tim buried his face in his hands as something tugged at his memories. He struggled to recall it, but it felt like trying to remember a dream from last week.

Jean spoke, "Logan called us after the ... confrontation in the bathroom. He trailed you to the rail yards where he confronted you _again_." She flashed an annoyed glance at Logan. "He was supposed to wait and watch."

He snorted at her and said to Tim, "Instead of charging up a playing card, you charged up a rock. Damn near killed yourself from the blast, too. Sent the both of us and what seemed like half the gravel in the yard flying."

Tim's eyebrows shot up at the news. That would explain why he'd spent three weeks out of it and why he felt so stiff and achy all over. "And then what?" he asked.

Logan crossed his arms and leaned back. "We picked up up, put you in the Blackbird, and took you here."

Professor X steepled his hands, pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment and finally said, "Jean and I have been inside your head, trying to find you, trying to set you free."

::It's why we had you tied up.:: Jean spoke directly into his mind. ::We weren't 100% sure who would emerge as the dominant person.::

_Shit. That bad?_

Jean smiled thinly back at him.

Tim clenched and unclenched his hands. "I've said it about 20 times already, but what now?" It came out as more of a croak than he wanted, so he cleared his throat, swallowed a few times and continued in a steadier voice, "Will I ever remember the things this Remy did? Or am I going to have a whole year of my life missing and just find out that I know how to do things by accident?"

"That depends somewhat on you, Tim," Professor X replied. "Jean and I can go back into your mind, but it might be best if we leave you alone for a week or two to see what emerges naturally."

::We don't want to destabilize you. Right now, you think you're fine, but if we poke in there much more at the moment, we might end up with a hybrid of Tim Riggins and Remy Le Beau -- that was the name of the persona your kidnappers created.::

Tim sighed and sank back into the seat, eyes on the smooth white of the ceiling. It completely sucked to hear that, but he could feel the _worry_ in Jean. One wrong move and he might cease to exist, not just be bricked back in and fighting to get out.

(God, and how did he know that?! He didn't really remember it, just _knew_ it.)

He looked at Logan and asked, "Did Weapon X mess with your mind?"

Logan's mouth twisted ruefully. "Yes. Multiple times as far as Professor and Jean can tell me." He pointed at the side of his head. "It's all a jumble in there. I've got fragments I can't place, things that make no sense. I have no idea what's really real and what's created. I don't know if the me I am now is the me who went into the program."

Resigned sorrow filled Professor X's eyes. "You are who you are, Logan."

Logan snorted mirthlessly. "Just be glad all you got is a missing year, kiddo."

"But you're not so ... jumbled ... as Logan," Professor X continued. "When you've stabilized, Jean and I can see about nudging things along to help you recover more."

Tim stood up (hissing at the stiffness) and walked to look out the window. Green-haired Lorna was making a rather shaky flight a few feet off the lawn as she attempted to also lift several objects with her power. "One more thing. Does my family know I'm alive yet?"

"No," Professor X replied, "We've told Jason to hold off on contacting your brother."

"Good," Tim said. "I want to tell him myself -- but only after a few weeks." He forced the next words out. "I don't -- I don't want him getting his hopes up if it doesn't work out."

"I understand, " Professor X said.

~oo(0)oo~

"I can't believe they're actually making me take classes," Tim grumbled.

Jason threw back his head and laughed. "Well, Tim, it _is_ a school."

"Yeah, but I'm not like the others, not anymore."

Jason shook his head. "You're not the only one who's been through some hairy shit, Tim. Just ask some of the others. Jubilee over there? She was a street kid until she got found. Logan found Rogue. Warren's father tried to cure him. Bobby's family asked if he could _try_ not being a mutant."

"Yeah, but --"

"And it's not like Lorna and I didn't face down Magneto. And let me tell you, Lorna? She's _tough_." Steel laced Jason's tone.

"Look, Six, it's not like I'm ever going to get a regular job. So why do I need to -- "

Jason hawked and spat. "Play your violin a little louder, Tim," he said before wheeling away.

 

~oo(0)oo~

Logan placed a padlock and a small set of tools in front of Tim. "Let's start figuring out what you know. Then we can devise the right kind of training for you."

Though he had no memories of ever having used lockpicks, Tim had the lock popped in seconds.

Okay. He knew basic lockpicking.

No. Wait, he knew some pretty damn good lockpicking. In fact, when Logan set him loose on a more complex lock, Tim took the smallest pick, charged it with a 30 second delay, and told Logan it was time to step away from the table.

Guns? "Look, I'm from Texas," Tim deadpanned when Logan opened up his armory. But he surprised himself by stripping and reassembling most of the small arms.

Explosives? Not a clue. "Because when I'm around, anything I touch can be the explosive." Logan grunted thoughtfully at that.

In the garage, Tim discovered that he could hotwire most of the vehicles. Logan grinned ear to ear when Tim broke the ignition on Scott's favorite car in the act of getting it started. "You got a mad-on for Scott or something?" Tim asked.

Logan's grin got a hair more evil as he replied, "Not as much as I used to. But he's still a dick."

Hand to hand? Clear eyes and full hearts were no match for old age and treachery. Still, Logan seemed to be mildly surprised that it took him more than 30 seconds to take Tim down, and Tim was proud that he got in a few good shots of his own before Logan floored him.

"Did you know your eyes glow red when you use your power?" Logan asked as they rolled up the mats in the dojo.

"No." Tim paused and chewed his lip for a moment. "But it sounds like it looks cool."

"Cool don't mean shit, bub."

"Oh, sometimes, it does," Tim said as they stepped out on to the lawn in front of the mansion. Logan glared at him and was about to say something, but Tim cut him off, "Got me laid more than once."

"Wipe that smirk off your face, boy," Logan growled, but a moment later, his laugh rumbled out of him as he slung an arm over Tim's shoulders and they headed towards the Mansion and the group of students in front of it.

It was Jason coaching his girls in a game of volleyball. The way he talked to them, acting and sounding almost like he did back in his days as QB1 brought a smile to Tim's face. The shapely girls didn't hurt, either.

"Enjoying the view?" Logan asked.

"Hell yeah," Tim replied, somewhat distracted by the sight of Lorna leaping to make a spike.

Logan chuckled. "You see that girl and that girl?" He pointed to Rogue and Jubilee.

Tim nodded. They were also pretty, even if Jubilee was a little young for his tastes.

Logan spun him around so fast he gasped in shock. And when he spoke, Tim realized that he wasn't dealing with Logan anymore, but _Wolverine_. "I catch you sniffing around either of them, and I'll put your ass in a sling."

Tim nodded again, but inside he thought, _Gambit likes a challenge._

And calling himself Gambit? _It felt right._

Rogue dived and made an amazing save, and as she got up and dusted the grass and dirt off her chest, Tim thought that perhaps finishing high school wouldn't be such a hardship after all. Especially not with pretty girls like these in his class.

Besides, if the locks on their doors and windows were anything like the locks on the doors and windows of the room he shared with Piotr? Sneaking in after lights out was going to be a piece of cake.

"What are you smiling at?" Jason asked as Tim took a seat on the bench next to him. "Because most times, when I get done training with Logan, I'm too pooped to pop."

"I'm just thinking that I'd like my field name to be Gambit."

"And what makes you think you're going into the field?" Logan asked from behind them.

Tim looked up and over his shoulder at Logan, snorted, and said, "I blow things up, I can pick locks and pockets, I've got a great poker face, I fight pretty good, and the rest of the world thinks I'm dead." He shifted his voice into a Cajun drawl, "Alla dat make Gambit ideal for de field."

Jason laughed. "Did I ever mention that Tim would spit in the eye of the devil himself?"

Logan chortled. "Hustle him at pool, too. Don't get a big head about it, Tim, but yeah, I was going to talk to Ororo and Scott about fast tracking you."

Tim blushed a bit at that -- Logan didn't just hand out compliments and from him, this was high praise indeed.

As soon as Logan headed into the mansion, Jason said, "So, what else did Logan say?"

Tim sighed contentedly. "That Rogue and Jubilee are forbidden fruit."

Jason chortled as he said, "Oh, he don't know you very well, do he?"

"_Non_," Tim replied between his own set of snickers.

"Tim."

"Yeah, Six?"

Jason smiled huge at him before saying, "They're not Rally Girls. If I catch you --"

"I'm putting that behind me, Jason," Tim put some frost in his reply. "Besides, if I want a one nighter, I can just hop the wall and slip in to town."

Jason nodded at him and went back to giving the team his undivided attention.

Tim kicked back on the bench and considered the fact that Rogue reminded him more than a little of Lyla Garrity, and she had more than a dash of Tyra's moxie mixed in.

Forbidden fruit indeed.

He smiled. This new life of his?

Tim ~~had a feeling it could~~ would make it all work out.


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue I**

[Two Weeks Later]

The handful of change dribbled into the phone, clanking loudly on the way down. "Hey Billy, it's me. I'm calling from a pay phone and I'm kind of glad I got your voicemail. If you really need to get a hold of me, Jason Street can help you. A lot of stuff's happened to me in the past year, but it's better and safer for you if everybody else thinks I'm dead. I love you, bro. Talk to you later."

"Are you sure that's how you want to handle it?" Logan asked as soon as Tim hung up.

He nodded. "I think he should know, but it's better this way."

Logan took a long pull off his beer. "Let's go shoot some pool."

 

**Epilogue II**

[3 Months Later]

"Tim, _please_," Rogue said, tears in her voice, as she pushed back on his chest with one of her delicate gloved hands. "You know I can't."

Tim leaned in. "Can't _what_, darlin'?" She looked so incredibly beautiful framed by the blossoming ivy in the trellis that he almost forgot himself and darted in for a kiss. He stopped at the last moment.

"The last time I kissed a boy, I almost killed him!" She hissed, sorrow turning to anger. "So please, just -- try to like somebody else."

Shit. "_Non._"

"Tim!" She balled her fists in anger.

He laid his accent on thick -- Logan had told him to practice speaking like his field persona, and besides, he knew it amused Rogue to hear him speak this way. "No teasing, _Cher_. Gambit like to live dangerously." He grinned and took her chin in his gloved hand. "And you 'bout as dangerous as it get. But you also about as good as it get, so me an' my heart, we gonna take our chance wit you."

She laughed bitterly. "And I'm supposed to believe that you, Tim, the guy that Jason and Logan, but especially Jason, have told me all about, is serious about a girl he can't even kiss?"

Tim took her hand in his and kissed each fingertip. "I can kiss you just fine."

Her big black eyes hardened. "Fine. But I can't believe _you_, the guy who's come to class with hickeys more than once, plan to live like a monk. Or is this just some big joke to you?"

"Gambit's no monk. He serious, too."

Finally, she softened and smiled ever so slightly at his talking about himself the way Smash Williams used to. "Tim, I'm serious. This is me. No sex. Ever."

He laughed loudly then leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Whoever told you no sex doesn't know about texting or latex." _Or even saran wrap in a pinch._

"That ... sounds kinky," she replied a trifle breathily.

"It is." He smiled lasciviously at her. "Gambit's got one rule --"

"And that is?" She asked archly, once again pushing at his chest, but she let her hand stay.

"Always play the hand you're dealt."

Her face crumpled for a split second before she recovered. "And?"

"_Cher_, life dealt me you. And I play for keeps. And, I've got ideas about how we can play." He took her hand from his chest and kissed the palm, then put little sucking kisses on her fingertips. The gloves weren't the best tasting things, but they were thin enough for her to feel, thin enough to make her shiver in response. "_Ideas_," he purred, low and velvety.

"What kinds of ideas?" The flirt was back in her voice.

He brushed her hair back from her face. "Ones I think you'll like." He smiled at her before dropping kisses across her shoulder. "Ones that guarantee we can both have _le bon temps_."

**Epilogue III**

[4 Months Later]

"Tim!" Billy yelled, running across the floor as fast as his short little legs would take him.

"Hey, squirt!" Tim said as he scooped him up. "You're getting big!" Billy smiled at him. "But not too big for me to do _this_." He grabbed Billy's wrist and foot and spun around fast, causing Billy to shriek with delight.

"Hey, me too!" Tommy said as soon as Tim put Billy down.

"Me three!" shouted a slightly bigger blond boy who Tim assumed must be Franklin Richards.

It was going to be a long day.

(But a good one.)

~oo(0)oo~

"Yeah, he's a handful," Tim replied to Sue Richards, "but he's a _great_ kid. Tommy and Franklin, too."

She laughed.

"I can just imagine the havoc he caused teleporting around here before you got that inhibitor band on him."

Sue frowned in thought for a moment. "Teleporting? He's not really a teleporter -- that only happened the one time."

"Really? So what does he do?"

"He can alter reality." Sue smiled wryly. "The first thing he did after we got him home after his ... little adventure with you was wish for a ton of soft serve ice cream."

"Sounds like a -- wait, did you say he alters reality?"

She nodded.

"_Ohhhhh_." And he burst out laughing.

She raised a questioning eyebrow. "Is there something I should know?"

"I think I just solved a little mystery is all." He smiled down at her. "Let's just say that I was on one path in life and Billy accidentally put me on to another." Pause. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first got this challenge, I said I would do it, but that I wasn't going to the Rogue/Gambit place ... and we see how _that_ turned out.


End file.
